


I Can't

by sunfirestrike



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reader is fucking done with this bullshit Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfirestrike/pseuds/sunfirestrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You discover your little brother is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't

**Author's Note:**

> I was having Daredevil Feelings and this is how I dealt with it. I'm sorry!
> 
> (also 900 word exactly is pretty friggin' awesome, right?)

Your eyes could not believe what was laid before them in a disheveled, bloody, heap, was your little brother, and apparently he was Daredevil.

Matt knew you were there, knew you we're in a much greater kind of pain than he was at the moment. But he couldn't find the words to tell you that he was going to be alright. That the blood that seemed to be dripping out of his mouth was just a cut to his lip. That the slit open skin on his arm from a knife that he didn't have time to dodge was just superficial, and nothing to worry about. That he had called Claire, a nurse who he could trust, was on her way to patch him up. But he couldn't speak, for the blade stabbed into his chest was keeping him from talking, because you hadn't.

You hadn't spoken a word.

You just stood there, staring at him with horror plain on your face.

You're brain finally seemed to process what was happening, because you slammed the door shut, and rushed over to him yelling, “Matty!” and it was like he could breathe again.

“I'm--” He swallows the lump in his throat, “I'm fine,” Probably not the best answer, he realized that to late.

“FINE! Matthew, you are in no way fine! You are bleeding profusely!” You shouted at him, like he had just said the most offensive thing in the world.

“It's just a flesh wound,” he told you. You were about to berate him more when the door barged open, with a woman in baby blue scrubs on the other side, a med kit in her hand. She looked at you quizzically, like you didn't belong there.

“Who are you?” She questioned.

“Who are you?” You asked in return. She opened her mouth to speak, but Matt beat her to the punch.

“Claire-” He coughed on his own blood, “It's alright.” The women, Claire nodded, gliding over to sit beside Matthew, and start tending to his cuts. You watched on in silence, anger boiling up in your chest at the fact that your little baby brother was messing with the shit that got your father killed. God, why did he have to be just like him? Finally looking at him became to much to bear without screaming at him for being a dumbass, so you headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face.

Claire looked up when you slam the bathroom door, and Matt winced.

“So,” She poked, “Who was that?” Matt sighed, then hissed at the pull of the needle.

“My sister.” Clare raised her eyebrows, a “Humrph” coming out of her mouth.

“Well, she looked pissed,” She told him, as she was finishing off his stitches.

“Yeah,” He groaned as he moved to sit up straight, “Yeah she is very pissed. I would clear our of here because I sense a sibling screaming match coming on, and no one wants to witness that.”

By the time you came out of the bathroom Claire was gone, and Matthew was siting on his couch, with stitches in his arm. The sight of a bit of tried blood on his chin had tears springing into your eyes. You stood there, staring at him again for what seemed like hours. He didn't say anything the entire time you gaze at him, he knew that you needed to come too terms with this.

“Why?” It was so quiet that if you didn't know he had heightened senses you would of thought he didn't hear it. He took a deep breath, as if he was going to go into a long speech about why this was necessary, complete with convoluted reasons that anyone else but you would fall for. But, instead, he lets it out in a long sigh.

“I don't feel alive without it.” Something insides you snapped at that. Your eyes ripping up from where they had been staring at the dried blood, to his sightless eyes.

“You don't feel alive? Matthew, you won't be alive if you keep this up!” You screeched at him. Memories of your father swirled through out your head. How he had always been a die hard type of man. How that had always scared you because of his job. How he reassured you that he would always come home to you to have you and Matty patch him up. And how his blood looked like a rain puddled because he had gotten too gutsy with the people he worked with.

“Y/N I will be fine. You kn--” You cut him off. You couldn't listen to this. That was exactly what you father said, and look where “I will be fine,” got him.

“NO! No, Matthew, y-you can't see. I can. I'm the one who had to see dad laying in a pool of his own blood. I'm the one who had to make the idea on his broken body. I'm the one who had to see all that. I'm the one who had the very sight of him haunt my dreams for months, Matt. And I can't, I can't go through that again. I won't go through that again. You're the only family I have left, call me when you figure that out.”

The slam of the door is louder, and more heartbreaking than any gun shot Matt had ever heard.


End file.
